Of the Faeries
by Nyx Goldstone
Summary: A dash of Sidhe royal separated from her twin, mix in a helping of Jack Sparrow, add a little adventure and romance for flavor. What you get is my attempt at filling in the holes that were in the movies before all the questions were answered. Jack/OFC
1. Beginnings

_**Title: **The de Fae__ Saga - Of the Faeries  
**Written by: **Nyx Goldstone  
**Disclaimer:** It's Pirates. It's all Disney. Well, except for the de Fae__s. They're mine. My brain children!!  
**Rating:** PG-13 - Strong language, mild violence  
**Author's Note:** Well, after posting **Shifted**, I got the guts to post my very first fanfiction ever. I'm aware how much this kinda sucks, so no need to point it out. It was a first and an experiment in doing strange things like filling in the blanks from a movie. The chapters were written mostly out of order. Also, they were written over the time between **Dead Man's Chest** and **At World's End**'s release, which means a lot of the nods and hints are going to be completely AU, since the answers were given after I did the writing. I would also like to apologize for the extra poorness of this chapter. It contained nods to Laurell K. Hamilton's Merry Gentry books which, at the time of writing it, I was unaware that she doesn't allow fanfics of her work. I tried to edit it out and still keep the integrity of the chapter... I'm fairly sure I failed at that, since it reminds me of a child's paper snowflake. Let me know if you catch anything I might have missed and I'll fix it. I don't wanna be sued!  
_

**Beginnings**

I dared to lift my eyes only enough to see my sister through my eyelashes. She was trembling like a cornered rabbit, and that wolf, the Queen of the Unseelie Court, was circling her. Maren, my sister, was short by Sidhe standards (a mere five feet and seven inches), which made our towering queen seem all the more intimidating to her. I knew all too well the effect Her Majesty had on my poor twin, and I did my best to ease that fear.

My "best" was to be her guard and escort. We were of royal blood, but a linage so far down the line that it did not give us much pull in the Unseelie Court. Our parents died when Maren and I were very young; Faded on our thirtieth birthday. Thank you, Mother. Thank you, Father. My sister grieved, but I saw their Fade as weakness on their parts. Our parents were around long enough to know the Pictish tribe leaders personally before they died out and after all that time our parents decide to just give up? I swore an oath to myself and my sister to never repeat that mistake.

Just like in the human royal courts, any time an elder dies and gives the youth a chance to rise up to the next rung on the ladder, those above and below seem to notice and take it as personal insult. Both sides would speak in sweet words while backstabbing, both figuratively and literally. After a Duel that left my sister broken on so many levels that she had begun to fear even me, I swore to be her Champion, always.

"BEVAN!"

I jumped, startled from my thoughts, followed at an inward flinch of what that reaction could mean for me. "Yes, your Highness?"

The queen placed a finger under my chin and tilted my head up so I met her eyes. "What's running through that pretty dark head of yours, Bevan?"

Another inward shudder threatened to make itself known when I felt the queen stroke my cheek like a lover. "A-about what?"

The sound and pain from the backhanded slap seemed to register too long after she actually slapped me. I let my chin drop to my chest so that I did not have to look her in the eyes again. She stepped away from me and took her place at her throne.

"Your sister has agreed, in the name of an attempt at peace, to become the consort of the King of the Seelie Court. What do you think of that?"

I turned my head to look at my sister. She was huddled on the floor, hugging herself. I turned my full attention back to my Queen. "If it pleases my Queen..."

"It does NOT please me!" she thundered. The walls of the Sithen seemed to enhance and echo her words. "But, rather than risk war and your sister find herself challenged to another Duel, I deem it necessary."

"Your Majesty…" The strained and timid voice of my sister caught both mine and the queen's attention. Neither of us spoke, so I assume that Maren took that as an invitation to continue. "Your Majesty…" Maren paused and swallowed, as if the words were stuck in her throat. "If you would permit me, I would like to take Bevan with me, as my guard."

I caught Maren's gaze at that moment. Her eyes held a mixture of relief and pleading. It was too much emotion showing on her face; too much for the queen to not take notice. I stole a glance at Her Higness, anticipating an angry heat in her face. The queen was turned away, thinking about my sister's request. I couldn't help but feel relieved as well.

Finally, she nodded. "Yes, I agree that you should have a guard with you. Perhaps two of you could help each other keep your heads about you in their illusions of light. And Bevan," Her Highness stared pointedly at me, "I expect a full report every month."

I bowed deeper to my queen, "Of course, your Majesty."

* * * *

Maren and I were given time to pack before we left that same night. I was watching my sister the entire time, as she put articles of clothing in her trunk, then took them out, and then put them back in again. I was already packed with the bare minimum of clothing needed. I decided I could have new clothes made when we got to the Seelie Court, but Maren seemed torn between going and staying.

After watching her put the same dark blue dress back into her trunk for the fifth time, I walked over to Maren and grabbed her by the shoulders from behind to stop her. "It either goes, or it stays. It cannot do both."

She leaned back against my chest and I hugged her tightly. "We're finally getting out of here, and not in exile. I hope I did not overstep any sibling bounds by requesting you come with."

I smiled involuntarily when she tilted her head back and looked up at me for reassurance. Towering over her by my head and shoulders, I sometimes felt more like her older brother than her twin. I leaned down and kissed her forehead. "I would not have had it any other way."

* * * *

I remember the trip going smoothly, as is unusual with travel such as this. Or maybe it was just me not remembering the trivial difficulties we might have had. The Queen had loaned us her black horse-drawn carriage, but the unusually cold first-week-of-December winds and snow had chilled us more while we rode to our fates than if we were walking through it. Even with a personal spell of warmth around her, Maren shivered uncontrollably. It was not long before I wrapped her in my fur-lined cloak. Most of the trip she was well hidden and dozing in the black fabric and white fur.

We were met outside of the Sithen of the Light Court by a pair of the King's personal guard. Both women were golden-skinned, with that "sun kissed" look that most humans desire to emulate, but could never quite match. The leather armor they wore was more ornamental than useful; far too thin to actually protect their bodies. I suppose, in the Light Court, they figured that they were immortal and that functional armor would get in the way of their vanity. One of the guards stepped forward.

"Maren and Bevan de Fae, follow us. His Higness is expecting you in his throne room."

I glanced to my sister as the guard turned away and frowned when I saw her shiver under the thick cloak I had loaned her. Perhaps, as a man, I did not quite understand then what exactly she was putting herself into. Hell, I do not understand it even now. But, it did not matter. We both swore an oath, and a Fae who is an oath breaker does not survive long inside or outside of the Courts.

We followed the nameless guards into the Sithen. As much black as there was decorating the Unseelie Court, there was as much white and gold decorating the Seelie Court. I was a bit awed by it all, and I hoped that my glancing around was properly disguised as being overly cautious of my surroundings. I had almost run into Maren when she stopped short before a huge set of double doors.

The nameless guards took up their positions on either side of the door just before it opened, seemingly on its own. The throne room paled the rest of the Seelie Court's halls. The shades of gold that I had seen were tarnished compared to the shades that accented the throne and walls of the King's throne room. The marble was of the purest white, except where the golden veins ran through the stone.

The king was seated on his throne, waiting for us. With his yellow hair and his skin glowing with the power that radiated from him, he seemed to be carved out of gold himself. He did not even lean forward when Maren stepped up and knelt on the marble before him. I mimicked her movement so well, that I could very well have been her shadow.

"My Lord, King of the Light Court," I heard my sister say, "I am Maren of the Faeries, and this is my twin brother, Bevan. I have been sent by Her Higness, the Queen of the Dark Court, to be your consort, to seal the pact of peace between our two courts."

I watched as he appraised my sister as if she were a prize show dog, and I began to have my doubts about this decision. I felt the flames of protective rage warm my face at the hungry smile the king had on his lips.

"My lady, it is a pleasure and an honor to have you here, and your brother as well."

I felt my face cool and the anger towards the king faded almost as soon as he spoke. My doubt washed away and I felt a calm that, looking back on it now, was unnatural. If I knew then what I know now, I would have taken my sister away from that place fast enough to set flame to the marble floors.

"It is an honor to be here, my Lord," Maren replied.

His Majesty smiled more, and the aura of power around him churned like the ocean.

"I have temporary quarters ready for you and your brother, until the official announcement of mine and Her Majesty's plans of peace. You are, of course, my honored guests and are more than welcome to explore your new home freely."

I spoke up then: "Our rooms are joined, of course, correct?"

The King's hungry gaze became a glare as he turned his attention to me. "Do you dare question my honor?"

He seemed to glow brighter, so I bowed my head. "Of course not, my Lord. But I am my sister's guard, and I cannot do that honored task properly if she is too distant from me."

"I will not allow one from the Dark Court to speak of my people in that way!"

"I meant no disrespect, your Majesty." I bowed my head lower. "I only meant to say that, until the pact is consummated, I worry for my sister's safety and the peace between the two courts."

The Light King scowled at me. "I will have your room moved to the adjoining room of Maren's. It's not as...comfortable as the first one."

"Thank you, sire."

* * * *

I may never understand why Maren was so happy to leave home, but she adjusted well enough to life in the Glittering Court. She seemed to have only made two friends, a lesser nobleman by the name of Tethra and a dark-skinned half-Sidhe by the name of Adsullata. I never left my sister's side when Tethra was around. He would look at her, not with the same hunger as the king did, but with a lust that was laced with love. It unsettled my nerves to no end. Perhaps it was just his eyes. They were not the normal tri-color of a Sidhe, but a clear icy blue not found anywhere else in nature. His skin was an almost sickly green color, and he sported a beard that was thick and long. His mustache was long enough to run into the beard and become part of it.

Adsullata, on the other hand, I trusted. She would call upon my sister many an afternoon after they had met, and I never did protest when she and my sister would ask me to leave the room so they could gossip and do what ever it is noble women do. I did not care, as long as the connecting door remained unlocked and ajar. Adsullata was attractive in her own way, with her chocolate-brown skin and the traditional tri-colored eyes of the Sidhe: an outer ring of the brown-green of a muddy river bank, the main color of her eye was the brown of a muddy river itself, and the inner ring blended perfectly with the black of her iris. She was about my sister's height, which I attributed to her mixed heritage. If I was not at the Light Court on a mission, I may have tried to court Adsullata.

Tethra, on the other hand, was trying to persuade my sister to court him. I remember one afternoon that he sent Adsullata with a gift for Maren. She showed it to me that evening, after Adsullata had left.

"Look at this, Bevan. It's an intriguing design, is it not?"

I picked up the metal locket and ran my fingers over it. The face that seemed to be trying to fight it's way through the smooth, heart-shaped metal surface unnerved me. "Where did you get this?"

"Adsullata brought it. She said it was from Tethra, and his message was that it's a 'welcome to our court' gift."

I frowned at the locket. The smooth metal surface was not cold iron, which made me trust him both more and less at the same time. If it were iron, it could be seen as a threat toward my sister. But, since it was not, I did not know what to make of it. "You cannot wear this, you know. King Taranis would be greatly insulted. Tethra should know this. He is too bold."

"I can't not accept it, Bevan. It would insult a noble of the court I'm supposed to be a peace offering to."

She tried to take the locket, but I held it out of her reach. Instead, I walked over to her bed and reached for a chest that she kept underneath. I took the double pronged key from it's hiding place and unlocked the chest. Bolts, all around where the lid met the rest of the chest popped out and I was able to open the chest. Inside were a few delicate silver necklaces that Maren had not been allowed to wear while living at the Light Court. I placed the locket in the chest with them, a crude and ugly thing against her fine silver, and swung the lid shut. The bolts immediately withdrew into the chest, sealing it until the double pronged key unlocked it again. The key itself I stuffed into my pocket.

* * * *

Maren was to be announced to the court during the Yule celebrations and no one in the Court was to know about it before then, so Tethra had ample opportunity during the three weeks my sister and I were merely "guests" to call upon her. Most of his visits were him asking if he may escort her through the gardens, with her faithful shadow to chaperon, of course. It was only during those times that I felt more like a tool than my sister's twin. In the beginning, Maren would try to include me in their conversations, but Tethra would draw her attention back to him or switch the topic. Eventually, Maren did not even bother trying to include me, and I truly became her unseen and unheard shadow during these visits.

After our third week of staying in the Light Court, the night before Yule, Tethra called upon her again, but this time he did not invite her to walk with him. He pushed his way into the room, until I stepped between him and my sister.

"Tethra, I will not allow court gossip to ruin my sister's honor. What ever you have to say, must be said in front of me."

"This has nothin' ta do with ye, lad," he hissed at me. The angry glare in those clear blue eyes almost frightened me.

"Anything involving my twin has everything to do with me."

I felt Maren's hand on my arm. "Tethra, you either must say it in front of my brother, or not say it at all."

I saw Tethra's eyes soften when he looked to Maren, and my stomach clenched.

"Maren..." He paused as he licked his lips nervously. "Lass, what I have ta say is nae easy for me to say ta you alone and even harder with other ears ta hear it. Me old heart sings for you, lass."

I cringed inwardly, but did not let anything show on my face. Maren was less practiced, and I felt her hand grip my arm.

"Tethra, I... I mean... You can't feel this way! There are others here for you, more available... Please, tell me you are jesting, and I will forgive this cruel joke!"

"Maren, lass, I am not jesting." He tried to step closer to my sister, but I blocked his path.

I felt Maren's hand leave my arm and heard the door that separated our rooms close. My eyes stayed locked on Tethra.

"Forget about her, Tethra. Just forget about her."

Before he had a chance to respond, I had him out the door and the door itself shut. I ignored his pounding as I drove the bolt home and went to the connector door that Maren went through. I knocked lightly and called for her. "Maren? Maren, he's gone. Come here, please."

The door swung open and she clung to me, burying her face in my chest. "Bevan, I'm scared. What if he says something to the king? What will we do? We can't go back! We can't stay here. I don't want to be tortured!"

"Maren, Maren..." I stroked her hair to comfort her. "His Majesty has to be more understanding than that. None of the court was to know why you were here until tomorrow. Tomorrow, things will be fine." I was sure of it.

The next morning Adsullata showed up early to help Maren dress. I had noticed that Adsullata was acting unusually somber for a Yule morning like this, but she avoided my concerned inquiry.

"Dere is no ting wrong. Now, would you delay me helping me friend get prepared for de celebration? It seems today is a big day for 'er."

"How... I mean, what do you mean?"

Adsullata's knowing smile was a sad one as she turned away to help my sister.

The gown Maren picked was one of my favorites that she owned: a deep, deep blue that had a skirt long enough to hide her feet even when she walked. It was as soft as the velvet on the antlers of a young buck, with white fur trim on the neck, sleeves, and hem. I heard her gasp when Adsullata pulled tight on the corset strings, and I laughed to myself. The things women do to impress! I complimented her with a doublet that was only a slight shade lighter than her dress and black breeches. My leather boots blended perfectly in darkness of the breeches and I had my sword strapped to my belt at my hip.

I was to escort my sister to the banquet. After the meal was when the King would announce Maren's purpose and mine. As I walked my sister down the halls of the Sithen, I wondered if she felt as nervous as I did. When we reached the double doors to the great hall, she stopped. Before I could ask her what was wrong, she turned to me and hugged me tightly. I held her for a long moment before she pushed me away and went through the doors to her fate.

Ever the faithful shadow, I followed her through and into the great hall. One could hear a pin drop when we entered. The hate was thick in the hall, but Maren cut through it and went straight to her position next to the King, and I took up my spot next to her. Women stared enviously at her through out dinner, and men shot hateful glares at both of us. I ate very little that night.

As promised, the king stood up after the meal was complete and waited until the great hall fell silent. He paused for a moment longer before clearing his throat. "My lords and ladies! For the past three weeks, I have been hosting a fine guest by the name of Maren de Fae, and her brother, Bevan. Some of you had taken it upon yourselves to meet her, and some of you have not. Tonight, I make the official announcement that the Unseelie Queen and I have made a pact. Maren has come over from the Unseelie Court to be my consort, as the first step towards peace."

I had noted earlier where Tethra was seated, less than half way down the table. During the king's speech, my eyes automatically went to him. His courtly mask had slipped and I could see in his eyes the surprise, disappointment, and hurt. I suppose any man could sympathize with him. After all, he poured his heart out to my sister and she did not even warn him of the announcement. _She could not have warned him_, I reminded myself and quickly tried to shake off the sympathy I was feeling.

Adsullata, who was part of a lesser ranking family, was seated towards the far back of the hall, on the far end of the tables. I was just barely able to make out her features, and the glitter of tears in her eyes and staining her cheeks. I had hoped that they were tears of joy for her friend, but my gut protested against that hopeful thought.

Finally, my attention went back to His Highness. The king's hungry look to my sister brought back the protective rage from the first night we had arrived. I nursed that rage all through the Yule Ball and it only grew hotter when the King retired with Maren to his quarters.

* * * *

A week after the Yule Ball, I had still not seen nor heard from my sister. I paced her room almost until I wore a hole in the floor. Adsullata would come by every day or so to keep me company, but it did not ease the worry I felt at the complete lack of my sister's presence anywhere in the Sithen. There was a knock on the door and I practically ran to answer it. Any visitor might have news of my missing sister, and I would not let them dare leave without giving it to me. It took me a moment after throwing open the door to realize that it was Adsullata on the other side, carrying a tray with two steaming tankards.

With a scowl, I turned away from the woman who had become the only friend my sister and I had in this foreign court. She stepped inside and left the door open behind her. I could only assume that she had grown accustomed to my foul mood. I sat on Maren's bed and held my head in my hands.

"Where is she, Adsullata? I just need to know if my sister is all right." I looked up just as Adsullata offered me one of the steaming tankards. I did not realize that I accepted it until I felt the weight of it in my hand.

"Maren is..." She cast a nervous glance around the room, then her face set into an odd look of resolve and admitting defeat. "De King has had Maren..."

I was in mid-drink, and I looked over the rim of the tankard at the dark skinned half-Sidhe. My hands were trembling as I slowly lowered the mug from my lips. "What has the king done to my sister?" I could hear the panic start to rise in my voice.

Almost too conveniently, Tethra was standing in the door way. "The King has had Maren thrown into our endless pit."

I stood up and threw my half-full tankard at Tethra, but it sailed wide and hit the wall instead. "Tell me the truth! Where is my sister!?"

"He does not lie, Bevan of the Faeries. I swear me own most solemn oath."

I glared at Adsuallata and saw her back away from me. The fear that my rage brought to her eyes cut deep into my heart. I realized then that I loved her, but my love for my twin was stronger. I shoved my way past Tethra and stormed all the way to the throne room. Without thinking, I threw open the doors and forced my way into the room. The two guards that had greeted my sister and I the day we arrived at the Light Court stopped me about halfway into the room.

"CUR!" I nearly screamed with hysterics, "I demand to know what you have done with my sister, Maren de Fae!"

The king, sitting easily on his throne, glared down his nose at me. "Who do you think you are, Bevan, to come in here like that and make demands of _me_!"

"I am Bevan de Fae, twin brother to your consort. That is who I am, and this is something I know, not think."

"Abiell, show our _guest_ his sister's new home."

One of the guards grabbed me by the arm and lead me to a door to the right of the king's throne. When she pulled it open, my eyes were greeted by the most plain room I had ever seen in the Seelie Court. Plain white stone made up the walls and the three small steps that lead down to a yawning hole that showed no promise of a bottom. I dropped to my knees and stared at the hole, which looked so much like the one in the Dark Court. My tears felt cold and hot all at the same time, as I wept for my sister.

I still felt Abiell's presence behind me, and I felt violated that the king and his guard would watch me during this private moment. I stood unsteadily, placing my hand on the cold stone wall to keep myself upright. After turning around slowly, I first looked at the expressionless face of Abiell then the smug face of the King. It only took me a moment to make my decision. I learned that night that exile or even death was a far better option than either court, so I spread my arms and leaned back into the hole in hopes that my sister would not have to fall forever alone.


	2. Kept Woman

_As always, disclaimers are on the first chapter!_

_Hi again! No input on the last chapter, so I don't have much to comment on with this one. I promise, the writing does get better! ...and then worse, then better... I wrote it all out of order and improved along the way. Can so tell which ones were written before others._

_Anyhow, thanks to the person who put a watch on my story! I hope you enjoy it!  
_

**Kept Woman**

Her head was tilted down as wet and greasy stands of hair hung like a curtain about her face. She could feel the eyes of the other captured sailors on her, glaring as if the superstitions were true and it was the woman's fault that their ship was no more and they were all kneeling on this foreign deck. She squeezed her eyes tight and wished for it all to go away, to be home and in her own bed, her own room, rather than on this slimy excuse for a ship.

Her prayers were answered by the sound of another crewman's approach. The only crewman she had not yet seen. The crewman she dreaded meeting the most: the Captain. Not daring to look up, she heard his distinct walk of "thud, step…thud, step…thud, step…" She squeezed her eyes tighter, as if it would hide her from the one man who could seal her fate. She heard the nervous whisper of the name "Davy Jones" come from several of the captured crew.

"Well, well, well… A woman, eh?"

The captain's voice had a slight rasp to it, as if the salt from the air and the sea had rubbed his throat raw a thousand times over. She was unable to pinpoint where his accent was from, but it sounded like an odd mix of British and Scottish. "Did ye stow away there?"

She dared to crack open her eyes, but not lift her head. Instead of a wooden peg leg, like she was expecting, she saw that the source of the "thud" in the Captain's step-thud walk was a spider-like crab leg. Her eyes went wide and she started trembling. Quick as lightning, she suddenly felt her face captured in a giant lobster claw and being forced to look up at the Captain.

"What's your name, lass?"

She was too scared to speak. The writhing mass of octopus tentacles that made up Davy Jones' face caused her stomach to knot up in disgust. His eyes were human enough, with a striking blue as clear as the sea when it was calm. There was something oddly familiar about those eyes, so she stayed focused on them.

"When the Captain asks you a question, you answer, girl!"

"M-Maren!" she stammered out quickly, shutting her eyes again as if it would protect her from any attack that might come.

"Maren…" Davy Jones whispered her name as if it were some long-forgotten dream.

She suddenly felt very aware of her tattered and almost make-shift clothing. When she had stowed away on the ship, they were already too large for her, but since then the ship had been out to sea for a while. She dared not take any more food from the storage beyond what she needed to survive, so her clothes were practically falling off of her now.

"Davids!" Davy Jones' sudden bark caused Maren to flinch.

A crew member, distorted beyond human recognition, stepped closer to the captain. "Aye, sir?"

Maren was aware of one of Jones' tentacles reaching into his coat pocket and pulling something out, but her eyes had locked back onto the icy gaze of the ship's captain. "Get Maren here some decent clothing, and then lock her up in the bilge deck. I'll decide what to do with her later."

There was a soft chorus of displeasure from Jones' crew at the idea of a woman being allowed to stay alive on the ship, but not a one dared speak up against the horror that was their captain. Davids grabbed Maren roughly by the scruff just as Jones let go of her face. The captain watched them until they were out of sight before turning back to the captured crew and smiling.

Davy Jones sent for Maren late that night. Her rags had been whisked away by Davids and replaced with something that was only marginally better: an old dirty tunic and men's breeches. She was given sea water to wash herself with and rinse most of the grease out of her hair, but it had only left it dry and frizzed. She was huddled in a dark corner when a crew member came to fetch her. He seemed more human than the others, in features and personality. Shame seemed to radiate from him, but Maren did not dare question why. She did not even have time to, for he simply unlocked the door and informed her that the Captain requested her presence in his quarters. Maren trembled, for she knew that in the Captain's quarters, there were no witnesses—even if there were eyes to witness it. Meekly, she followed the nameless man to the stern of the ship and into Jones' quarters.

Even with the lamps on, the room was dark and cold as an underwater cavern. All forms of barnacles and clinging sea-life hung on the walls and ceiling. On the far side of the room, opposite the entryway, was a large pipe organ. It, too, had sea-life and kelp hanging from its tarnished pipes. Maren noted that there was no place for the captain to sleep, and in fact had the bare minimum in chairs for visitors. There was a table piled high with all manner of seafood. She shivered at the coldness of it all, and turned to ask her escort where Davy Jones was, but he had slipped out while she was surveying the room.

_Thud, step…thud, step…thud, step…_

Maren faced the door and began to tremble again when she heard Jones approaching from the other side. She turned around to look for a place to hide, but when she turned back she was face-to-face with Jones and his tentacle beard. She yelped in surprise, and staggered back. Her shaking legs caused her to lose balance, and land on her backside on the floor. The shaking traveled up her body until even her teeth were chattering from the fear she felt. Jones reached down and pulled her up to her feet roughly by her arm. He held her tight before practically throwing her into one of the two chairs that were near the food-covered table. Jones himself sat on the bench at his pipe organ.

"Eat," he ordered.

Maren looked at the table heavy with food and, despite her fear, her mouth began to water. She started to reach for an oyster before a sudden though struck her. "How much of what's on this table are bits off your crew?"

Jones' jaw set, and Maren thought she had pushed it too far for sure. She began to shrink away, hoping to hide somehow in the bare wood backing of the chair. Maren would have been less startled if Jones had struck her than what he actually did, which was a loud and hearty laugh.

"As you can see, lass," Jones said as he waved his hand to indicate the sea-life on the walls of his cabin, "we have enough to choose from without resorting to cannibalism!"

Maren wrinkled her nose as she wondered how eating a crab from the ocean was not cannibalism when eating a man-sized crab was, but she decided to not push her luck any farther. He was feeding her fresh seafood, and he may not find humor in any more of her mindlessly blurted out statements. She ate fast at first. When the gnawing hunger in her gut was gone, only then did she slow down to enjoy the food. At that point, she mused to herself how ironic it was that men that looked like sea creatures could make a meal out of them so delicious. A crewman, probably from the Galley, appeared immediately after she was finished and cleared the table, which made her wonder if and how many of the barnacles were the eyes, ears, and messengers of the ship.

Jones leaned forward and Maren felt her stomach clench around her meal. He held her eyes with his own, and seemed to study her with some sort of hopeful anticipation. "Why did I let ye live, Maren?"

Maren's expression changed to one of confusion. _Does he expect me to read his mind?_, she thought to herself. Out loud, she said, "My winning personality?"

Jones' smirk was hidden under his tentacles, but the disappointment in his eyes wasn't. He grabbed a box on a small table near his organ and moved to the chair that was across from Maren. Jones placed the box down on the table between himself and her. The top was painted with a black and white checker board, faded with age and use. When he took off the lid, Maren noticed that the small black and white pieces inside were marine-themed chess pieces. As he removed the pieces with his tentacles and sorted them on each side of the box, he continued to talk to Maren.

"Close, lass, but not quite there. You seem familiar to me old mind; there's an aura about you that I can-nay quite put me finger on. Black or White?"

Maren was taken off guard for a moment by the question. "W-White?"

After Jones moved the box aside and placed the checkerboard top down, he leaned over and his tentacles started setting up the pieces on the board, white on her side and black on his. Maren watched in awe at how nimble his face was. She was even more in awe at the fact that he could talk while his "beard" set up the board.

"Chess is also known as the Game of Kings. Do ye know why that is, Maren?"

"…Because Kings and Generals used it to develop tactics for the field of battle." Maren could feel her caution rise again, unsure what a game of chess and a discussion of its history was supposed to mean to her, and why Jones did not kill her.

As if he read her thoughts, he answered her unspoken question. "Your aura, as close as I can tell, has an air of cast-out Royalty about it. An', as I stated before, ye are familiar to me."

Maren began to protest that she was not royalty, but Jones cut her off with a sharp look. "You're not, else I would nay have found ye in the rags you were in and hidden in the bowels of that ship. But, I can tell that ye are educated, Maren. I can see it in yer eyes." Jones studied the board for a moment before moving his first piece. "If you could not already tell, lass, me crew hardly provides much stimulation in the ways of the mind for this old sea-dog."

"Wh-what are you getting at?"

Jones motioned for Maren to make her move. Carelessly, she moved a pawn two spaces forward.

"It would be a shame to let all yer intelligence go ta waste. I'll let ye live, as long as you keep it up." Jones released the piece that he had moved while talking.

"So, what you are saying is, as long as I keep you entertained, I get to keep my life." Maren made her move.

"Exactly, lass." There was nothing friendly about Jones' grin as he plunked another piece down on the chess board.

Maren felt her courage, fueled by anger, build. The idea of being a court jester to someone who had a face that could be her calamari dinner did not sit well with her. She was quiet for a long time as she thought over her options both on the board and on the ship. "Will I turn into a fish-face like Davids back there?"

Jones laughed as he took yet another of her white pieces off the board, with his pawn no less. "I would hate to see yer mind become coral, so no. Ye'll stay exactly as ye are. As a bonus, I'll even give ye land leave, escorted o'course and a location of my choosing."

Maren knew Jones had her cornered. "All right," she agreed reluctantly. She plunked her rook down a bit too hard on the board. The pieces wobbled, but none threatened to fall over. "We have an accord."

Jones placed his queen in front of her king and leaned across the board as close to her face as he could.

"Checkmate."


	3. Chess

_As always, disclaimers on the first chapter!_

_Yes, yes, I know! Three chapters before Jack even comes in on the story. Of course, I'm not sure if anyone's complaining or grumbling. You readers have been rather quiet. This author commentary area gets far more entertaining when y'all comment! I promise! :D  
_

**Chess**

Maren sighed and sat down in her usual chair. She picked up an ivory bishop and rolled it in her fingers before putting it back in its place. For too long she had been on this ship, and she was tired of the games that came with it. As she waited for the sound of Jones' approach, she looked around the room. The cabin was dark, almost misty. She strained her eyes a bit to see the blackened barnacles that decorated the walls and ceiling. Restless, she stood up again and made her way over to the large organ that blocked the large window. She ran her hands lightly over the old and worn keys of the top row until she came to the other end. Her brow furrowed as she looked at the odd locket that rested on the side of the organ.

It was heart-shaped and dark with age, and made of some sort of metal that seemed to resist the cruelties of the salty air. A face seemed to try to push its way out of the front of the locket. After picking up the dark metal-grey object in her hands and running her fingers over the face of it, she felt something stir in the back of her mind as if it were trying to break free. She needed to remember what the significance of this object was, but for some reason could not.

_Thunk, step…thunk, step…thunk, step…_

Maren quickly placed the locket back down and turned around just as Davy Jones entered. The seemingly permanent scowl on Jones' face appeared to be more deeply etched as he looked at the woman on the other side of the room near his precious instrument. Maren felt her breath catch in her throat before she looked away from the Captain and made her way back to her seat by the chess board. She pulled the chair close to the table and looked back to Jones again.

After a moment's hesitation, Jones took up his spot across from Maren. "No terms again, I imagine."

"My freedom."

Jones paused in mid-motion of moving his first piece, shock poorly hidden in his eyes. "I beg your pardon?"

"I want off this wretched ship, Jones. I made no deals like the men of your crew did. I'm being kept here as your pet, aren't I?"

Jones placed his pawn back in its original position, anger at the accusation burning in his cold blue eyes. Maren kept her eyes locked with his, as if she dared him to try something with her. She had no idea what she would do if he took her dare, but she felt it was too late to back down.

"What do I get when I win?"

Maren knew that she had nothing to bargain with. She looked away, feeling defeated in her attempt to get off of the Flying Dutchman. When she turned her gaze back to Jones, she saw a hunger in his eyes. She felt a wave of fear wash over her, leaving her numb and tingling all at the same time. Suddenly, she knew what Jones would want should he win.

"When I win, I want things to stay as they are, for a hundred decades hence."

Maren's brow furrowed. "Exactly as they are? Nothing more, nothing less?"

Jones nodded as he spoke, "Exactly as they are." He picked up his pawn again and made his move.

* * * *

"Check and mate!"

While being played, the game seemed to have gone on forever. Then, in a sudden moment of clarity, it was over. Maren thought she heard her voice echo the words over and over again, filling the cabin with noise. She was too shocked to see that she had won to notice that Davy Jones had the same look of disbelief on his own face. The chess board disappeared when she took a moment to rub her eyes, to make sure that she was seeing it all clearly.

Jones overcame his disbelief first. His beard and mustache of tentacles writhed with agitation that his facial expression easily hid. His head jerked up to look at Maren, then back to the chess board, and back again to Maren. His lobster claw shut with a loud clack and his right hand clenched into a fist, the tentacle of his index finger wrapping itself tightly around his wrist. With a violent shove, he pushed himself away from the empty table and stood up.

"Well, Lady de Fae, it seems you are free to go as you please." A cruel smile appeared on Jones' face. "How about the next time we make port?"

Maren opened her mouth to retort, but Jones had transported her out to the main deck. She looked around at the crew, all somehow aware of Jones' defeat already. She cursed herself mentally for not specifying to be dropped off near some port town as well.

* * * *

It took Maren some getting used to, not seeing Jones every night. In some strange way, she started to miss the nightly games, but not enough to go back to it. The more she thought about it, it was less that she was missing spending time with Jones as it was that she missed his intellect. The crew had very carefully trained themselves to stay away from "Jones' girl." She didn't have a name on the Flying Dutchman; she was just Jones' chess partner, Jones' toy, Jones' property. She sneered at that thought, and suddenly missed the games just a little less.

A wave caused the ship to lurch from underneath Maren, and she stumbled a bit on the swaying deck. She reached out to catch herself on the railing, but missed and fell. It seemed to amuse the crew, because she heard their laughter before she managed to lift herself to her knees. She scowled at the men around her and lifted herself from her knees to her feet, gripping the railing tight enough to turn her knuckles white. She had done had enough, and when the deck settled, she marched herself straight for Jones' quarters.

* * * *

Davy Jones stared coldly at the pirate that stood before him as he fingered his music box locket like a worry-stone. "What's in it for me?"

The pirate grinned, a few gold teeth glinting in the eerie and pale light in the cabin. "How about a cut of me profit, mate?"

Jones shook his head, causing his beard of tentacles to sway with the motion. "Not good enough, _mate-tah_. Me favors call for something of more…value."

The pirate tilted his head, causing his thick dreadlocks to hang to one side. "What do ye have in mind?"

"There's a chest, rumored to be cursed, if'n ye believe such nonsense. I want it. I'll raise your precious Pearl to give ye a ship to fetch it for me. And as collateral, I lay claim to yer immortal soul until ye get me that chest, no later than thirteen years hence."

The pirate paused as he thought that deal over.

"Too much for ye, Jack Sparrow?" Jones grinned.

Jack glanced to Jones and sniffed then straightened himself. "Of course not! I accept."

At that moment, the door of his cabin swung open and Maren stormed in, looking both embarrassed and angry at the same time. Jones scowled at the woman, the pirate momentarily forgotten. "What are ye doing in here?!"

"You. Me. Talk. _Now_!" Maren held Jones' gaze, ignoring the appraising look of the other man in the room.

"Aye, an' who's this bonnie lass?" Jack said with a mischievous grin while his eyes drank in the sight of Maren.

Maren looked at Jack like she had only just then noticed him, and it was as if he was horse dung carelessly flung onto her shoe. From the top of his ratty old tricorne hat down to his worn boots and back up to his dirty coat, Jack Sparrow was the physical embodiment of pirates. With a wrinkle of her nose, Maren noted that his smell was, too.

Jerking his head towards Jack, Jones locked his icy gaze on the other men. "Ye best be leavin' Maren alone."

Jack smiled, his eyes still on Maren, while Jones scowled at him. Maren turned away from the pirate and put her full attention on Jones instead.

"I want a way off of this ship, Jones. I've earned my freedom, now give it to me."

Jones ripped his hateful gaze from Jack and turned it towards Maren. "I already said—"

"Do you need passage, luv?"

Both Maren and Jones turned their heads towards Jack. It was Maren who broke the short silence that followed Jack's interruption. "At what cost?"

Jack shrugged with a grin. "I'm sure we could work out some sort of bargain once we get on me ship!"

* * * *

Jones was in a daze when he walked Jack and Maren out. He would never forget Maren's awed expression when he raised Jack's precious Black Pearl from the dark depths of the sea. He was not able to watch as they crossed the gang plank from the Dutchman to the Pearl. Instead, he went back to his cabin and sat on the bench to his organ. Jones couldn't bring himself to play his beloved instrument, though. Where Maren was once his muse, she was now the thing that hindered his tentacles from calling the notes from the instrument.

He heard the waves splashing against the hull of the Dutchman, but the waves seemed louder against the Pearl, as if they were pushing the other ship and taking Maren away from him that much faster. All Jones could bring himself to do was stare blindly at the organ pipes. The pain was just too much for him. He thought that Maren had warmed to him, had remembered him, and would stay. His lower lip quivered with the tears he was fighting back.

Davy Jones would sit at his organ for days, never playing it. He would just stare at the pipes as if he expected them to start singing on their own. Any crew member who tried to stir him from his quarters would have been greeted with complete silence from their captain. Until one night, they heard a terrible scream come from his cabin.

The first mate rushed into Davy Jones' quarters, drawn by the almost banshee-like wailing. The rest of the crew gathered at the door, hoping it was minimum safe distance. Jones had finally moved from his organ. He was standing over the table that used to be home to the chess board that Jones and Maren played on.

Jones had shrugged off his coat and ripped open his tunic. In his hand was an old blade that looked like Jones had fished it straight from the sea that morning. It was rusty, dull, and encrusted with residue from the sea. He plunged the blade into his chest, and let out another wail of pain. The crew watched in horror as Jones cut out his own heart, leaving a fist-sized hole in his chest. Jones was sobbing as he gently placed the heart in a small chest and closed the lid. The captain's tears dried up before the chest locked itself and Jones tucked the key away into the fresh wound in his chest.


	4. All's Fair in Love and Mutiny

_As always, disclaimers are on the first chapter!_

_So, you've read this far, now have a bit of trivia! This was the first chapter written of this story. Yes, I realize it's chapter 4, but like I said, this story wasn't written in order. I just wrote things as they came to me.  
_

**All's Fair in Love and Mutiny**

Sitting back in his chair with a sigh, Jack stared out the port-hole behind his desk, a bottle of rum in his hand. He hadn't touched it in hours, and didn't seem to notice. The sun was low in the sky, coloring the sea a deep orange-red. The room felt like it was closing in around him. He needed to see the open ocean again, to make sure that it was still there. Without thinking, he put the bottle on his desk and headed to the upper deck of the Black Pearl. A quick visual sweep assured him that everyone was doing their duty, including his head-strong and ambitious first-mate, Hector Barbossa, who was manning the helm. He fixed his gaze on Hector and crossed the deck, graceful as a cat on the unsteady flooring of the small ship.

"Mister Barbossa!" Jack called out as he approached, "How fares the crew this evening?"

"Well as could be expected, Captain." Hector eyed Jack warily.

"Good, good." Jack loved that he could put his first-mate on edge without actually _doing_ anything. After all, he was just needling the poor bastard. "What of our passenger?"

Hector's gaze went from Jack to what seemed like the starboard side of the helm deck. Jack walked around his first mate and peered down the steps to a young woman who was sitting on the railing with her back against the rise to the helm deck. She was staring out over the ocean with the same far-away gaze that Jack had not moments before. He carefully made his way down the steps closest to the woman, careful to keep his steps soft and silent. Jack lived by the rule of thumb to never just give anything away, be it treasure, knowledge, or your position to your enemies.

"Mister Sparrow…"

Jack stopped with one foot on the main deck and the other still on the last step. How did she know it was him? To cover his hesitation, he quickly stepped off the last stair and around to her front, though her face was still turned out to sea.

"My lady," Jack said, laying the flattery in his voice on thick. "I hope my crew has treated ye well so far."

Reluctantly, the woman—_Maren_, Jack reminded himself—shifted her gaze from the ocean to Jack. Her eyes were a medium hazel in color, but held the hard, cold gaze of someone who didn't necessarily live a hard life, but had enough troubles that she didn't trust easy. Jack gave her a quick once-over, not the first since she boarded the Pearl. She was a solid woman, broad of shoulder and compact. Nothing like those tiny slips of girls that usually lived on land. She was definitely a seafaring woman and had the muscle to prove it. Despite having a tan that matched his own, her hair was still dark, with only a few sun-bleached highlights reflecting the light from the setting sun.

He noticed that she gave him her own once over, and he stood up straight to give her the best view possible. His pride deflated a bit when the once-over was followed by a sneer. "How about you stay in the cages tonight, and I'll take your bed."

With an undignified snort, Jack crossed his arms over his chest. "I offered ye my bed and you refused!"

"With you still in it, is what you meant!" Maren hopped from her perch to land solidly on the moving deck, and advanced so only a few slips of paper would be able to fit between her and Jack. She was only a mere three inches shorter than he was, and almost came nose-to-nose with him. "I'm not one of those filthy Tortuga girls," she spat, not even bothering to hide her disgust, "who fawn over you like…like…like—"

"You're standing awfully close for someone who's not interested in me offer." Jack's lips pulled back in a mischievous grin, his gold teeth flashing in the fading light.

With a "hrruff!" that was more of a growl than an actual word, Maren spun on her heel and stalked down to the bilge deck. Jack fancied that he heard the slamming of the cage door as she settled herself in for the night. His grin morphed into a frown. He didn't have the same desire to needle the girl like he did for needling Barbossa. He needled Barbossa to piss him off, but his needling of Maren had more to it. He wanted to keep her talking, just to hear her voice.

Maren plopped herself down on the make-shift bench in the cell she used as her sleeping quarters. With another "hrruff!", she crossed her arms and glared at the wall of the cage. Wall was a loose term. More like a wide grating made of cast iron. She didn't bother closing or locking the door, not only because there was no privacy anyway, but Jack had the key. There was no point to do anything more than sit, hrruff, and sulk. She stared off into space for a long time, her mind whirring with possible retorts that she could have said, possible alternative outcomes. Slowly her scowl turned into a smirk, before she realized where exactly her mind had wandered to. Shaking herself free of those thoughts, she lay down on the bench and closed her eyes, drifting off to sleep.

Jack was back in his cabin, staring out the port hole again into the dark this time. He couldn't understand the unusual feeling he had when he thought about Maren; especially when she had that angry look. A shiver ran up his spine, and he grinned. He knew she'd never take his offer to share a bed with him…not yet, at least. He took a swallow of rum, then another. Usually rum was his drink of choice, but tonight it was like a combination of liquid courage and to drown the fluttering in his stomach. He forced himself to turn back to the maps sprawled out on his desk.

Now, to concentrate on the task at hand…

* * * *

"Damn you, woman!" Jack shot a frustrated glare at Maren from across the helm. "What does it bloody take to get you out of my hair?"

Maren stood perfectly straight, legs crossed and hands clasped innocently behind her back. She tilted her head and regarded Jack's dreadlocks with child-like interest, as if she were taking his figure of speech literally. Her perfect poise and cat-like balance, even on the moving ship, were a stark contrast to her bouncing around and reading maps over Jack's shoulder earlier that day.

"Books," she finally said.

"Books...?" Jack still had that frustrated glare plastered to his face.

Maren nodded. "Books."

"When we get to Tortuga—"

"The only book we'd find in Tortuga is probably the Karma Sutra," Maren grumbled

Jack grinned. "I know that one."

"_Real_ books, or I continue to be a pest."

"The Karma Sutra is a real book!"

Maren crossed her arms and took her turn to glare at Jack. "You told me to make myself useful, so I'm going to make myself useful as a Bard. I know music, and I know stories. I don't know what types of stories your crew likes, though. Either you help me, by getting me _real_ books, or I go back to spending my days making sure you're thoroughly annoyed."

_You say that like it's a threat, love!_ Jack mused to himself, a half-hidden smirk on his lips. "All right, when we pillage the town tonight, I'll make sure the men don't burn _all_ the books, and bring some back, just for you."

* * * *

Her "room" was piled with books. Not so many that she couldn't stay in it like she had been, but there was no light down there. Instead, she lounged on Jack's bed, using a lantern that was bolted to the wall after the sun went down. Most nights, Jack would sit at his desk while she reclined in his bed, reading by lantern-light. She started to enjoy the quiet time they spent together, long into the night. Jack would usually be able to out-last her, though, and she would slip out just as exhaustion would turn her into the walking dead.

One night, Jack looked over when he hadn't heard the rustling of pages in a while. Maren had fallen asleep, still holding the book. He stood up and walked over to the side of the bed she was laying on without his usual swagger. Gently, he took the book from her hands and closed it, tossing it onto a pile of other books at the side of the bed. He reached out as if to pick her up, but thought better of it. Instead, he pulled the top blanket of his bed so that it wrapped around her. That night, he slept with in his chair with his feet propped up on his desk.

He was woken up before sunrise by an odd, yet pleasant pressure on the side of his head. It took his muddled brain a moment to realize that he wasn't in his bed like normal. He jolted awake, knocking himself to the floor from his chair. Using his desk to pull himself to his knees, he looked around the cabin wide-eyed as Maren was climbing back into his bed. He jumped to his feet and dusted himself off, as if he had meant to fall out of his chair.

Maren waited until he was looking at her again before she patted the empty side of the bed. Confused, Jack didn't dare to move. That was when Maren smiled at him in a way he was very, _very_ familiar with…

* * * *

Maren was happy, not only to have her precious books to read, but she also enjoyed Jack's silent company at night. Despite his sarcasm, she was more than just warming up to the man, though she would never admit it out loud to herself or anyone else. There was a gentleness about him that would only come out when no one else was around them, and he had a few too many hits off the rum bottle. She noticed that Jack was also happier lately, since he had found that silly broken compass two days prior. He kept it strapped to his belt at all times now. She did not understand why he would be happy about a compass that didn't point north, but she did not care either. She was just happy that Jack was happy.

"Good morning, lady!" was Jack's very groggy early morning greeting.

Maren raised her book a little higher to cover her smile. "Good morning, Mister Sparrow. I see you're finally awake."

"'Finally'? You're usually the one sleeping in most days!"

Maren closed her book and set it aside before she snuggled down under the blanket and closer to Jack. "I could go back to sleep."

Jack's mischievous grin, as familiar to her as any other part of him, appeared on his lips. "I have a better idea than sleep, love."

She pressed her lips to his. Just as Jack was about to pull her close to him, she pulled away and gave him a mischievous smile of her own. "You also have a crew up there who might think their Captain has turned his back on them! Go, the hour is already late."

With a groan, Jack forced himself to get out of bed and dressed. As he emerged from his cabin, he blinked at the brightness of the afternoon sun. It felt like a grand day to him! He had Maren, and soon he would have the Treasure of Cortez.

"A word with ye, Cap'n!"

Jack shifted his gaze and eyed Barbossa warily. The man had never willingly approached him before, so Jack wondered what it was now that he wanted. "Yes, Mister Barbossa?"

"The crew an' I 'ave been discussin' among ourselves… We's be thinkin' that, since th' treasure we be goin' aft'r be so grand, we all be getting' an equal share. Includin' the bearin's."

Jack turned his gaze back to the clear blue sky as he thought about that. A smile crept to his lips as his mind wandered to his plans for that night with Maren, putting him in an even better mood. "Aye, Mister Barbossa. Sounds fair enough."

* * * *

His eyes were locked on the last spot he had seen the Black Pearl on the horizon. The last moments he spent on the ship were etched forever in his mind, and would not stop replaying.

He was warm and content in bed with Maren one moment, and then suddenly pulled to his feet by cold hands. Barbossa had allowed him to put on clothes, but forced him to watch as the crew dragged a naked Maren, kicking and screaming, out of his sight while he struggled against the bosun's iron grip. A part of him died that night with Maren's final scream of terror.

There was dialogue between Barbossa and himself, but rage and rum had made it all a blur. He was shoved from the plank, after they shoved his sword and a pistol with only one shot in his hands. Jack had not even made it to shore before the crew started their journey to the Isla de Muerta, under the command of the new Captain Barbossa.

With a bottle of rum in his hand, and rage in his heart for his lost loves, Jack stared at that horizon line and made two vows: to get his ship back, and to avenge Maren.


	5. Bevan de Fae

_As always, disclaimers are on the first chapter!_

**Bevan de Fae**

Bevan felt an unusual calm come over the sea suddenly that morning. He looked out over the wave-less waters that stretched out forever in every direction. His breath felt caught in his chest at the uncertainty that the unnatural calmness meant. After securing the rigging, he did a quick visual sweep that told him that the captain was no where on the deck, so he went to the doors of his cabin. Bevan knocked tentatively and waited for a response.

"Aye?" The voice of the captain was muffled from being filtered through the door.

"Cap'n, may I have a moment?"

There was a pause before Bevan heard the lock unlatch. He grabbed hold of the doorknob and twisted, pulling the door toward him and blinking at the relative darkness that was a contrast to the bright day out at sea.

"What is it, de Fae?" The captain walked with a heavy step back to his chair and sat, staring up at Bevan.

Suddenly, Bevan felt ridiculous reporting calm waters to the captain. He shifted nervously from one foot to the other. "S-sir, the waters are calm…too calm."

"'Too calm'?" Bevan watched as the captain's brow furrowed and his voice took on a condescending tone. "How can the seas be 'too calm', de Fae?"

"It's… It's like the sea is mourning, sir. I can't explain it. It just is."

Bevan turned away from the scrutinizing gaze of the ship's captain. "de Fae, get back to yer post. I know yer not crazy, so what I'm gonna do is pretend like this conversation never happened. We'll be docking in Tortuga soon. You need the time off."

Bevan felt his jaw set and his teeth grind a bit. He was of noble birth, not some street urchin that the captain picked up to be a cabin boy. Back at home, no one would be able to talk to him like that. But, he was not at home. He was on this ship while he hunted for clues as to the whereabouts of the missing member of his family; his own sister. So, Bevan quietly nodded, and left the captain's quarters and returned to his duties.

* * *

Bevan de Fae had his hat pulled down over his eyes, his hands wrapped around a warm mug of grog. The key to not getting pulled into a fight at The Faithful Bride was to never look anyone in the eye. He had been in Tortuga for about a month, not even bothering to rejoin the crew of the last ship he was on. It was easy to get lost among the crowds of drunkards, and he knew he wouldn't have been missed until the crew was well out to sea.

He took another long drink from his tankard before pulling his hat down over his eyes. Bevan was beginning to lose hope that he'd ever see his sister again, that he was too late in coming after her. He suddenly felt the overwhelming need to give up his search. His heart scolded his brain for thinking such things, but he couldn't shake the feeling.

Souring his mood even more was the pirate at the table in the middle of the room. The foul bugger did not do anything but meet up with old Joshamee Gibbs and drink himself into a stuper every night since he arrived. Even Gibbs was more sober than the pirate by the end of the night. He was especially loud the night that Bevan was nursing his grog and rage.

The pirate stood up suddenly, the trinkets in his dreadlocks jangling merrily, and he raised his tankard. "To freedom! To getting the Pearl back!" He paused a moment as his eyes clouded, and he seemed to sober for just a moment. Even his voice quieted. "And most of all, to Maren."

Bevan's head jerked up suddenly, and he looked at the unknown pirate. Joshamee was trying frantically to calm him down, his eyes shifting this way and that. "Jack, I could have told ye it would have been bad luck to have a woman aboard the ship…"

Jack swayed where he stood, then sat back down heavily in his chair. "She was so much more than just a wo-woman, Gibbs," Jack slurred. "Maren was like the sea 'erself: unpredictable, strong, and untamable!"

Bevan did not realize how far he was leaning out of his chair to listen to the pirate until he fell, dumping his grog all over himself. "Shit!" He quickly jumped to his feet and dusted himself off, making a face at the liquid that saturated his clothing.

He caught the attention of the surrounding patrons, including Jack and Joshamee. The two that Bevan had been listening to were the only ones who did not laugh at his misfortune. With a scowl, he started to head out, but Jack caught his arm as he walked by. He turned his scowl to the drunken pirate.

"Sit, boy. I'll replace your drink. Now, why were you eavesdropping on us, eh?" Jack's gaze was clouded, but still intense in some way.

Bevan opened his mouth to deny that he was eavesdropping, but he was brought up to never outright lie. With a snap of his teeth, he looked away from the other man. He heard Jack order a refill for the table. "I thought I heard you talking about someone I am looking for."

"An' who's that, lad?"

Bevan turned his gaze to Joshamee, who was watching him intently. "My twin sister, Maren de Fae."

Jack choked on his rum and slammed the tankard down, spitting the liquid all over the front of himself. It seemed like the man sobered in an instant, and the glare that he shot at Bevan sent a shiver down his spine as well as put him on edge. "Don't tease me, boy!"

Bevan felt his jaw set and teeth grind. He was no boy, and did not appreciate being called such.

After a long pause, Jack continued. "What's your name?"

"Bevan de Fae. Who wants to know?"

Jack gave Bevan one of his mischevious grins. "Captain Jack Sparrow, that's who."

"What do you know of my sister?" Bevan leaned closer to Jack, trying to put a menacing edge to his voice and a threat in his gaze.

Jack was not effected in the least by Bevan's act. He simply sat back in his chair and accepted the replacement tankard from the tavern wench before he continued. "I can't say if my Maren was your sister or not, but she was a delightful woman—in more ways than one." He noticed the snarl on Bevan's face at the implied insult to the honor of the man's sister, but he continued anyway. "She never told me anything about herself except her given name.

"She would tell me crew stories well into the night, after supper was done. Her voice would mesmerize like the lazy waves that lap at a beach shore. Her temper was like a storm that could capsize my ship. And she was as mischievous as the water pixies she told stories about." Jack got a faraway, dreamy look in his eye as he took a long drink from his tankard.

Impatient, Bevan pressed Jack for more information. "What did she look like?"

With a half-hearted glare at being rushed, Jack gave in to Bevan's urgings. "About my height, same dark hair as yours and hazel eyes."

Bevan was sure that it was his sister that the pirate spoke about. He jumped up from his chair, knocking it over behind him. "Where is she now? I want to know where my sister is!"

The humor drained from Jack's face as he looked Bevan straight in the eye. "You won't find her unless you can travel to the underworld, lad."

Bevan's stomach went cold, but he could not help his rage. He lunged at Jack and yanked the man up from his chair by his coat. "What do you mean? Stop calling me 'lad', and what happened to my sister!?"

Jack was a good half-head shorter than Bevan, so his toes barely touched the ground as the other man held up him by his coat. He only smiled at Bevan, but it was the sad smile of someone lost and trying to get control back. "My first mate mutinied against me. As is the Pirate's way, I'm sure you already know, anyone who would ally against the mutineer is condemned to death if another punishment doesn't strike a better cord. Maren was killed at _Captain_ Barbossa's command." Jack spat out the title as if it were poison on his lips.

"How could you let them do that to her!?" Bevan's temper was barely in check. A red haze seemed to color his vision as he dropped Jack back in his chair. He did not notice the sudden hush that came over the tavern at his display of temper.

"I didn't _let_ Barbossa do anything, sir." Jack's voice was as icy as Bevan's stare. "'Let' would imply that I didn't care for her, and didn't care what happened to her!"

"They say that the sea mourned her death." The voice of Joshamee Gibbs broke the tension that was building between Jack and Bevan. Both men turned to face the older man. "I've heard sailors claim that the sea itself quieted down that day, over month ago."

Bevan was suddenly reminded of that day, when he felt the unnatural calm from the sea and he told his captain about it. His gaze settled on Joshamee then moved to Jack. He scowled at the drunken men before turning and leaving The Faithful Bride.

* * * *

He had heard about the witch doctor woman during his time in Tortuga. He bartered passage to the New World where it was rumored that she lived. When he rowed the little boat through the bayou to the hut, he felt the magicks that radiated from there. He was slowly surrounded by people carrying candles, humming softly to the point it was almost a hypnotizing chant. They guided him wordlessly to the small dock that protruded out of the hut.

Bevan paused outside the door and soaked in the energy the place gave off. Just as he was about to knock, the door swung open. There stood the witch doctor woman, dressed in a tight corset and long skirt. Despite her dark hair and skin, the woman seemed to glow with a light of her own, and Bevan recognized her instantly as Faerie.

"Aahhhh, Bevan of de Faeries! I've been waiting for you…" Her voice was low, silky, and seductive.

Bevan shook his head to clear it before stepping through the door. "Then, you know why I'm here."

"Yes."

She had taken a seat on a throne-like chair at her table. He joined her, sitting in a plain stool on the opposite side. "Tia Dalma, is it?" He paused just long enough to see her give a short nod in confirmation. "Then you can help me?"

Tia Dalma leaned forward, her expression grave. "Dere is nothing ye can do for your sister now. It was she who gave herself over to Davy Jones to protect de one dat she loved."

"So, that old sea-serpent has her… But, you never answered my question. Is this something you can help me with?"

The woman sat back easily in her throne, her eyes locked with Bevan's. "The only help I will offer you is to advise you to let her go. The waters between Davy Jones and your sister are dangerous, and not only because of Jack Sparrow. Even I dare not swim in dem. You shouldn't either."

It was Bevan's turn to lean forward. "How do I find Jones?"

* * * *

As Bevan de Fae knelt beside his crewmates on the deck of Davy Jones' ship, he took a moment to reflect on what had happened to lead him there. All of it had started over twenty years prior to that moment, in a young man's hope to find his beloved twin. He had convinced himself thoroughly that he was being a good brother in trying to find her, but as he faced the power of another creature so full of anger and hate, he was less than sure of himself.

_Thunk, step…thunk, step…thunk, step…_

He looked up at the approaching Captain of The Flying Dutchman, and tried to keep his expression neutral. With his octopus head, lobster claw, and crab leg, Jones was a fearsome sight. But, Bevan did not see anything beyond that this was the man who was last rumored to have his sister.

"Ye look familiar, lad," Jones said as he grasped Bevan's face in his lobster claw and turned it to get a good look at him. "Have ye tried to barter with me before?"

Bevan squared his shoulders and locked eyes with the Captain that stood before him. "I look familiar because you are holding my sister captive."

"I have many women 'captive', boy," Jones laughed. "Which one are you referring to?"

"Maren de Fae."

The laughter went out of Jones' eyes and was replaced with one of lust. His mouth turned up in what would be a cruel smile for Jones. "She willingly gave herself over to me, to save Jack Sparrow. You cannae interfere with her bargain."

"What?" Bevan whispered. He felt himself go limp in Jones' claw and his mind race. "No… Jack Sparrow? The only other person… Dear Goddess, she really does love him!"

"What did you say, boy?!" Jones yanked Bevan to his feet. "Who does she love?"

"Some pirate…"

Jones threw Bevan into the arms of the nearest crew member. "Lock him in the brig. I need to pay his sister a visit."


	6. Bargains

_As always, disclaimers are on the first chapter!_

**Bargains**  
_Part One_

The shot echoed like thunder through the caverns of Isla de Muerta. Jack couldn't move, and barely dared to breathe. After ten years, this was the day he had waited for. He chased Barbossa and the Pearl for ten bloody years, and it all ends now, with a single shot. The thunder had died down, but Jack could still hear it ringing in his ears. He couldn't hear anything else, couldn't see anything else.

The last night on the Pearl replayed in Jack's head like a movie; being yanked from his bed with Maren, struggling against Bo'sun's iron grip but unable to reach her, to help her… That cut into Jack almost as much as the mutiny had. For ten years he went after Barbossa to seek his revenge for his Pearl and for Maren.

"Ten years you carry that pistol and _now_ you waste your shot."

"He didn't waste it."

Jack heard the clink of the two coins from Will's hand as they joined their brethren in the chest. His eyes narrowed as he watched Barbossa pull open his coat, a mixture of shock and realization on his face, and blood poured from the fresh bullet wound. Jack slowly lowered his pistol. "For Maren."

"I feel—cold!"

The memories flashed through Jack's mind again as he watched Barbossa fall, an apple rolling free from his lifeless hand. It was over. For ten years he chased Barbossa and the Pearl. For ten years he held onto that one shot, and he got his sweet revenge. A dish best served cold, they say. But, there was something missing, and when he turned his gaze to Will and Elizabeth, he knew exactly what—or, rather, _who_—it was.

* * * * *

Norrington was hot on his trail, but Jack was determined to get back to Isla de Muerta. He wanted that chest. It was sure to help him with his current situation. His time was running out, and he was starting to get desperate. Jack's brow knit together in quiet frustration as he cursed Barbossa's name again for setting him back so far. How was he going to be able to make up for the ten years he lost? All he could do was hope that the contents of the chest would save him somehow.

With a grin, he sailed head-first into the hurricane that stood between him and redemption.

_Eight months later…_

Captain Jack Sparrow felt, for the first time since he was a very young lad, the twinges of panic that he'd be unable to work his way out of his problems. The Isla de Muerta had sunk, taking the chest and all of the pirates' horded gold down with it. After another couple trips around his cabin, Jack finally stopped pacing and dropped into his chair with a scowl at his compass. It hadn't worked quite right since he got the Pearl back. He knew what he wanted, he really did… Didn't he?

His eyes swept his cabin and rested on the bed, something else that had not been much use to him for the better part of a year. As he stared at the bed, he felt warmth spread from his chest and out. When it reached his eyes, he felt the stinging beginning of tears. He shut his eyes tight, and shook his head with a growling sigh of frustration. When he opened his eyes again, the bed was still there and the warmth returned. Jack recognized the warmth as the same feeling he would get when he would look up from his work at his desk and see Maren there, reading or curled up asleep.

"She's gone…" he scolded himself harshly and out loud. "After eleven years, stop hoping she'll come back." After a slight pause, and another stare at the bed, Jack decided that maybe it was time for a change in décor. He closed his eyes again, and it was almost as if he could feel her close by…

"Captain!"

Gibb's voice and knocking on the doors jarred Jack from the reaching tendrils of his daydream. Jack was appreciative of the distraction. Too many nights he had these waking dreams of Maren being in the cabin with him, and they were starting to scare him. They were too real, and he couldn't stand the heartache that waking from them brought.

"What is it, Mister Gibbs?"

Joshamee Gibbs threw open the doors to the Captain's quarters, a giant grin on his face. "We've arrived!"

* * *

_Part 2_

Maren was there the night that Barbossa was killed. That was something she made sure of by staying on the Pearl, and roaming the caverns of Isla de Muerta. She was fully aware that she was dead herself, and all she was to the damned crew on Jack's ship was a cold chill and an icy whisper on the wind. But she wanted to be there, to "take care" of Barbossa when his time came.

She was standing beside Jack when he pulled the trigger. As Barbossa fell, she closed the distance between herself and his body, so that she was standing between Barbossa's body and Jack. She watched with cold silence as he picked himself up off the ground. With a startled look, Barbossa gave himself a once over, as if he couldn't believe he was alive.

When he looked up from his inspection to Jack, a wicked grin on his face, Maren locked eyes with him. The switch from smug success to fear was instantaneous in Barbossa. Maren felt a wicked smile of her own melt into her lips. The fear in Barbossa's eyes when he recognized her and realized what it meant was almost revenge enough for Maren—almost. Barbossa's mouth worked like a marionette's, opening and closing but no sound coming out. Maren lunged at him, her own anger and hate taking over her mind and blinding her. She wanted to beat the crap out of him and to make him pay for being the mastermind of what took everything away from her.

When she stumbled through where she thought Barbossa was, she let out a primal scream of frustration. She whirled around, hunting for the spirit of the man who betrayed her and Jack. Her smirk had shifted to an angry snarl. It was quickly wiped away as her eyes focused and she saw Barbossa's body and spirit hauled away by a thick black fog.

_So, that's what it's like to cross over…_ Maren thought to herself. Her body trembled with pent-up anger. Fate, the cycle of the afterlife, what ever a person wanted to call it had stolen away her chance to get her own revenge. Determined to expel that energy somehow, she transported herself back to the Pearl.

* * * * *

That blasted naval ship had been following the Pearl for months. Maren knew that if something in Jack's favor did not happen soon, he would be caught. That was why she was in that familiar barnacle-covered cabin of Davy Jones. She was reminded of those many long years ago when he would summon her to his quarters for a round or few of chess. The captain of the Flying Dutchman was fond of strategy games, and had always had the board set up and ready when he called for her. Jones was never there when she would show up in his cabin after being summoned.

The chessboard was set up just like it had been when she was a "guest" on the Flying Dutchman, right down to the white pieces that she always played being on her side of the table. As she sat there, staring at the board, she wondered if Jones had found a replacement for his old chess partner. She reached out to pick up a white pawn, but her spectral hand just passed right through it. That was when she heard it. The tell-tale _thunk-step…thunk, step…thunk, step… _of Davy Jones. She lifted her head from the chessboard and turned her gaze to the door of the cabin just as he walked in.

Davy Jones had not changed since she last saw him. He was still an octopus for a head with a lobster claw and a single crab leg. She noticed the surprise in his crystal blue eyes, and also noticed that he hid it quickly. He stiffened his back and glared at Maren.

"How did you get here?"

Unsure if Jones was aware that she was a ghost, she stood up carefully, making sure not to touch anything. She closed the distance between them quickly and with a graceful stride.

"I'm here to strike a deal with you, Jones." Maren noticed that she sounded braver than she felt.

Jones cocked his head to the side and eyed her warily. "What kind of a deal?"

"I want you to help someone."

Jones stepped around her and sat at the table in front of the black pieces. He moved a pawn and then turned his gaze to Maren expectantly. "What do I get in return?"

"Something you have wanted more than anything else." Maren didn't move from her place. Jones had done exactly what she feared he would do. She couldn't beat him at chess when she could not move the pieces.

Jones continued to stare at her, waiting for her to sit down and participate in the old game of chess and bargaining. Maren had beat him only once before, and he was determined to never let it happen again. Maren knew he would not continue with her until she moved her pieces.

Something snapped in Maren just then. She didn't have the patience for games, Captains, or men made of seafood. She stormed over to the board and made a motion as if she would knock over the board. Jones flinched in anticipation of flying pieces, but when the board remained untouched with Maren standing over him and glaring something fierce, his interest was peaked.

"I'm offering you all that I have left to save one Captain Jack Sparrow, his ship, and his crew from the Navy ship following him now. Lock me away in your locker, yours to summon when ever you wish. Just do this one thing for me."

Something passed in Jones' eyes that Maren couldn't recognize. He turned away from her and stared at the chess board in what Maren could only assume was to think. She watched as he reached out and lay the white King down on the board to indicate his acceptance.

"I shall send a hurricane his way…" Maren started to protest, but Jones cut her off with a sharp look. "You will go back and somehow persuade him to sail into it, though if I know Jack Sparrow, he will do it himself. When I'm ready for ye, you will know."

_Eight months later…_

Maren knew Jones would be calling for her that day. She felt it in the back of her mind like a half-forgotten thought. She had spent as much time as she could close to Jack as she could be, but the pull of Jones was getting stronger.

She was seated on Jack's bed, watching him pace restlessly around the cabin. She wanted to memorize every move, because she knew that she would never see him again. She watched as he plopped down in his chair and his eyes rested on the bed, right where she sat. Maren furrowed her brow and tilted her head to the side, wondering what Jack was staring at on the bed. She looked around herself, wondering if she sat on something important to him. Seeing nothing, she felt the ghostly equivalent of her pulse quickening as she felt a sudden surge of hope raise that Jack was able to see her.

That hope was dashed when she heard his frustrated growl and he started to remind himself that she was dead. She stood up from the bed and walked over to him, reaching out to touch his dreadlocks. She watched as he closed his eyes, as if he could feel her. She started to reach for his face, as if she could actually kiss him, when she suddenly heard a bang behind her. Maren jerked her head up and turned, but she was no longer in Jack's cabin.

She was back in Jones' cabin, but something felt off about it. She spun on her heel and headed toward the door, but stopped short. There was no door. A quick look around the room showed her what felt off about it. There was no door, and there were no portals; it was Jones' cabin on the Flying Dutchman without any way out. She turned to the familiar table, and there was a chessboard set up, with Jones already sitting in his spot, ready to play.


	7. The Locker

_As always, disclaimers are on the first chapter!_

**The Locker**

I tapped my rook thoughtfully on its square in the chessboard. My eyes were unfocused as they looked over the position of all the pieces and my mind was running through the situations I was in. I refused to look at Jones those days, as we played chess in the mock-up of his quarters on the Flying Dutchman. He would try to get me to glance up at him, at least once every visit, but I did not want to see him if I could help it.

With a shake of my head, I brought myself back to the chess game and placed the rook on another square halfway up the board. "I'm going mad here, Jones."

I felt his eyes on me, and I knew I had his attention. I also avoided talking and debating with Davy Jones during his visits. "What do you want me to do about it? This was your agreement." He moved one of his knights.

I moved my bishop and lifted my gaze to meet his eyes, ignoring the writhing tentacles that made up his face. I tried to infuse as much of the underlying madness that I felt from the isolation I was in into my gaze. I couldn't tell if it had an effect on him, because his gaze back was devoid of any emotion. "Make me an offer, old man."

Jones stared at me for a long time before he finally slammed his queen down on the board. "Checkmate." With that he stood up and vanished, leaving me alone again until the next time he decided he was bored with tormenting the people that found their way to his ship.

* * * *

I wasn't sure how much time had passed since my last game with Jones. I had just lay myself down on the organ bench and started to count the barnacles on the ceiling for the millionth time when I heard a sudden crash and a shower of chess pieces rained down on me. Instinctively, I covered my face from the flying ebony and ivory pieces, and sat up when it stopped.

Jones was standing where the table once stood and was glaring at me. I looked around, confused at what happened, and then looked back at Jones. I could see his chest heaving under his coat with barely checked rage, and his tentacle beard was writhing with agitation. He took a shaky step towards me, and then stopped himself. I stood up and met his gaze.

Without a word, he turned around and waved his hand over the blank wall behind him before he turned back to face me. It started small at first, but quickly grew to the size of a port hole and then the size of a large window. I stepped closer, behind Jones, squinting at the bright light this new addition to the room added.

I wasn't sure what I was looking at, at first. The first thing that became clear was that it was a view of the open ocean. I felt my heart thump faster at that wonderful sight. But, the Locker isn't a forgiving place, and Jones is not a gracious man. Suddenly, my view of the ocean was blocked by a person that was as familiar to me as my own reflection.

The window was large enough that he was life-sized. It was almost as if I could reach out and touch those thick dreadlocks of his, pull him close and kiss his lips. My breath quickened this time, and caught in my throat.

"Jack…" I whispered. The name of my beloved Jack Sparrow seemed to echo in my ears, sounding more and more like a whimper each time I heard it. My lips tingled, as if they were parched and cracked and suddenly a sip of water reminded me that there was life in them yet. The tingling spread through my entire body until it became a cold lump in my stomach.

"So, it's true…"

I turned around and saw in Jones a pained expression that seemed alien on his face. I couldn't remember another time that he had looked like that. His voice and his expression threw me off guard. "What?"

The pain in his eyes was suddenly gone, and his mask of pure fury had slammed back into place. The new look in his eyes was one I knew clearly. I was being punished, and I wouldn't like it. Before my eyes, the mock window widened so that it circled me. It was as if I was standing in the middle of the events on the Pearl. I turned around, trying to see everything. I didn't notice as the furniture and organ faded into blackness.

Suddenly, Jones was behind me, his arm around my waist. He held me tight against him as he leaned down. "You are mine. You gave yourself to me to do with as I please," he whispered hoarsely in my ear.

I felt the tentacle that made up the index finger of his right hand slither down and stop just above my crotch. I stiffened, causing my back to press harder against him.

"W-what are you doing, Jones?" My voice was colored with panic. I never did do too well when I wasn't sure exactly what was happening and what caused it.

"Exercising me rights, Maren."

He shoved me forward, forcing me to look at the images floating in front of me. I watched as one of Jones' crewman held Jack's hand and touched his own palm to the Pearl's Captain's hand. I watched in horror as the Black Spot spread outward from the middle of Jack's palm.

"No… He never told me—"

"That he owes me a debt?"

I knew without looking the hate in his eyes, born of hurt, and focused on me. All the while, my eyes were focused on Jack, and the inevitable ending that this scene playing in front of me could be. I turned around to face Jones, and knew that I had fear and pleading in my own hazel eyes. "Don't do this… I'm begging you!"

"You are begging _me_?!" Jones' eyes held mine, and I saw it all; all his hate, all his love, all his pain, and all his pleasure. It all became clear to me in that one single moment in time. It was clear that I was the reason behind it all, that I was the cause of the emptiness in the man in front of me. "You will watch what I do to him. Watch, Maren; watch what I do! You said you were going mad; I will _show_ you mad!"

He vanished from my sight, then. I looked up at the images he left for me, life-sized moving pictures and sounds of things that I could do nothing about. I watched as Jack sent the boy over to the Dutchman to "settle his debt." I watched as Jones told Jack that only one hundred souls would free him of his debt. Inwardly, I cheered when Jack hit a nerve in Jones when he told about the boy's engagement to some girl.

Each scene was only a few minutes long, but to watch them felt like an eternity with each one. They played over and over again in my head while new ones played before my eyes. I felt the sweat bead on my brow as the girl shackled Jack to his own mast. I felt the rage and hatred toward the girl as she kissed him. I began to understand Jones' anger.

I wasn't able to hold myself up anymore. I felt my mind shatter just as my knees hit the ground, and when she looked into his eyes after kissing him, and I saw her lust for him. His smile… _Goddess, help me and help him…_, I prayed. Watching intently, through a haze of self-inflicted insanity, I hoped that Jack would pull off one of his tricks and that he would be okay.

When Jones' pet spat out the mucus covered hat, I laughed hysterically, as if it was the funniest joke I had ever seen. I felt pride for my Jack as he took up a fighting stance against the monster and I felt my heart break when the beast devoured him.

The room filled with a primal scream, so loud I thought my ears would bleed. I didn't know the scream was my own until I felt the pain of a raw throat and my own blood and bile. It didn't stop me, though. I continued to scream as the images for my eyes disappeared and left me alone in the blackness. All the while the images in my mind played over again, as clear as what Jones had left me with. Each time I reached the end, I'd start screaming anew.

I now knew what true hell was.


	8. Interlude

_As always, disclaimers are on the first chapter!_

**Interlude**

Darkness…

Surrounded by so much darkness, I wondered if I could touch it. But I could not see my hand. It felt thick, like a velvet curtain against my skin. It covered everything; my mouth so I could not speak, my eyes so I could not see, my ears so I could not hear. It was not cold there, and even a little comfortable. I wondered if this was what it felt like to be an unborn child. I felt nothing above me, nothing below me, nothing behind or in front of me, yet I was able to feel the darkness.

What was that? A flash of light! I reached for it, moving as close as I could to it. Without a stroke, I swam through the darkness to inspect the light. Another flash, brighter this time, with shadows moving in the middle of it. Before it faded, I saw the figure move with the grace of a woman and heard the swish of her stiff skirts. The flash again! It is gone in an instant, but it left a moment in my memory.

A tall man with a scraggly red beard and wearing a worn hat with a battered feather clutched the handrail as he stumbled down the twisted staircase. The spider monkey on his shoulder chattered softly, its voice holding a touch of sadness and concern. The woman with stiff skirts was there as well, at the bottom of the staircase.

"Barbossa," she said gently, "dey will come for you when it is time. You will be ready to fulfill your Destiny den."

Surrounded by darkness again, and the flashes were forgotten until the next one and another memory. The man and woman sat together at a small round table. Drawings in white chalk decorated the surface between them. Barbossa looked less worn and stronger; his monkey peered at the table from over the wide rim of his hat. All three figures had an intense gaze on the nonsense drawings and the shellfish claws that littered the table.

"Dey have succeeded, and dey have failed."

"And how, pray tell," Barbossa drawled, "does one manage to succeed and fail at the same time?"

The woman raised her eyes from the bones and glared at him. "Do not let your personal dislike for wicked Jack taint your Destiny, Barbossa. De Pearl is not a ship any one man may captain forever, nor can just any man captain 'er. She requires a new captain, now, an' Tia Dalma will bring 'er 'ere."

With a wicked smile on her lips, the woman gathered the claws and bones together in her cupped hands. As Tia Dalma rocked, her eyes became unfocused while she chanted. Her words brought to me the familiar warm tingling of strong magicks. I hugged myself and could not help but purr. She was coming! I wonder if this is what the ancients felt when they felt the coming of the Christ child. Tia Dalma threw the bones, and as they rattled across the table…

But the scene was gone. I reached forward into the darkness, trying to bring it back. I had to see her when she arrived. I needed to look into her eyes! I needed… I needed… Needed… I tried to call out their names, but there was no sound again, no light, no comfort from the magicks. She was coming, and I would not be there to ground her!


	9. Goodbyes

_As always, disclaimers are on the first chapter!_

**Goodbyes**

One moment he felt a searing pain in his chest, then nothing. Well, maybe not nothing; a little woozy and he was vaguely aware of Elizabeth by his side.

"Stay with me, Will!"

William Turner couldn't find the strength to talk, to tell her that he was all right. There was no pain, so he had to be. Darkness was looming though, and through a fog he felt someone press something in his hand. Not by his own power, his arm was lifted and what he was holding struck wood. He was not aware of it though. He was too tired, and had since succumbed to the darkness that was surrounding his vision.

No sooner had he closed his eyes then did he awake with a startled gasp. He was on the flat of his back, and the air was blood warm all around him. He tried to look around, but it was as if he were blind. Soft breathing in the darkness showed that someone was there with him; a woman, if the lack of deep and ragged gasps was any indication. Will stood up and turned to where he heard the breathing.

Dim at first, then like a ship breaking through the fog, he saw a form emerge from the darkness. She was tall with dark hair that almost blended perfectly with the black surrounding them. Too dark to be Elizabeth, he whipped his head from one side to the other to search for his wife.

"Elizabeth!" he called. "Elizabeth!! Where are you?"

The woman across from him raised her head and met his eyes with hers. They were a deep blue, with a look as haunted as the waters of Jones' Locker.

"Hullo?"

"I know you…" the woman started. She stepped closer to him, her back rigid with what seemed like forced pride. "You are the one who slain Jones. You are the one who…" She seemed to swallow back her anger.

William looked the woman over again. "I don't understand…"

She shook her head. "It doesn't matter now, Captain Turner. It is almost time for you to go back and say your good-byes to your old life."

As the woman spoke, she stepped forward. Her hand reached out and caressed the skin of his neck and down his chest. With the speed of a cat, she reached into the gaping wound he had only then just realized he had, and ripped out his heart.

Will cried out and clutched his chest, staggering back a few steps. He was still in shock when his father, Bootstrap, stepped forward from the blackness to hold out the chest to woman. She delicately placed William's heart in it and shut it. She watched the bolts slam into place before she faced Will again.

This time, Will tried to back away from the woman, but strong hands caught him and held him still. "What!? Who are you? What is going on? Where's Elizabeth??"

She did not answer his questions; she only reached out and caressed his neck again like before. This time, her hand passed over the wound, and all that remained of it was an angry red scar. The hands let him go, allowing him to drop to the ground.

"William Turner," the woman began, as she stepped back and once again looked into his eyes, "your wife is still among the living, and she cannot be brought to this place. And you cannot go to her but once every ten years."

"Elizabeth? But why?"

She ignored him. "You are now captain of the Flying Dutchman. You must now show those souls whom have become lost at sea the way home. There were too many who have been—forgotten."

"And if I don't agree?" He was angry now. Angry at being kept away from his wife, from the battle that he must protect her in.

"Then the souls shall remain lost. And you will remain locked here as I have, which means to never, ever see Elizabeth again."

William stopped at the sadness that seemed to have crept into the woman's voice. He stared at the chest that once housed Jones' heart and was now home to his. He nodded slowly. The woman took so long to continue that he wondered if she had seen his nod. He looked up at her, and was caught off guard to see her cheeks wet with tears that could not only just have started falling.

"There is one more thing, Captain Turner, which I personally need from you. When you are sent back, you need to send a message to Jack."

Will's brow furrowed in confusion. "Jack? Jack Sparrow?"

The woman nodded as fresh tears started to stream down her face. "Tell him that I miss him; tell him that I understand why he gave you that broken sword. Tell him that I will wait for him and that we will find the way to bridge the canyon between us. Tell him it is from Maren… Maren de Fae."

"Maren?"

Will was unable to continue his questions. Strong hands pulled him backwards by his arms through the darkness. When he opened his eyes, he was on the Dutchman, and he could see the Pearl in the distance and in trouble. Instinctively he climbed the mast and barked out orders to the crew below. The woman in the darkness was forgotten. Elizabeth needed his help now…


End file.
